


The Nature of the Job

by amoeve



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Awesome Sam Carter, Canon Rewrite, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, POV Jack O'Neill, Pregnancy, hello SGC this is Atlantis and we have Surprising News
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoeve/pseuds/amoeve
Summary: Carter’s face is twitching as she appears in O’Neill’s office, a datastick in her hand. “It’s from Atlantis,” she says, but she doesn’t look stressed, she looks immensely entertained. O’Neill doesn’t even get the chance to ask her what it is before she leans over his computer, plugs it in, and presses play.





	The Nature of the Job

**Author's Note:**

> Three years and one month ago, I send a jumble of pieces of a rambling angsty-pining-that-becomes-fluff Sheppard-Weir family AU to [intentandinvention](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intentandinvention/pseuds/intentandinvention), who noted that one bit of it probably worked as a standalone piece. She was 100% correct, and remains a wise, wonderful beta. Thank you again, darling. 
> 
> Since, in the intervening time, I have failed to finish the rest of the AU, here’s that standalone story. 
> 
> [mysterytour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterytour/pseuds/mysterytour), my apologies that this still isn’t the rest of Chains, I promise I will sort that hot mess of plot out one day!

Carter’s face is twitching as she appears in O’Neill’s office, a datastick in her hand. “It’s from Atlantis,” she says, but she doesn’t look stressed, she looks immensely entertained. O’Neill doesn’t even get the chance to ask her what it is before she leans over his computer, plugs it in, and presses play.

John Sheppard is in frame, against a white background – a wall, somewhere, in a room, somewhere. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and, O’Neill notes, no insignia of any kind. He looks up, behind the camera, rolls his eyes, and clears his throat. He looks incredibly awkward. “Hey, Dad… and Mark… uh… I hope you’re well, and the kids are all okay.” He stops. From behind the camera, a woman laughs, and his face comes to life as he glares. “What? This is hard!”

“I never thought I’d see the day you were completely tongue-tied,” a voice says, fondly, and O’Neill recognises Weir’s voice. John looks a little annoyed, but he half-smiles at her, not at the camera, running his hand through his hair.

“I’m not very good with the, you know – ” he waves his hands, and she supplies,

“Emotional expression? You know, I had noticed that.”

“Hey,” he protests. “I’m getting better!”

“Minutely,” she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. He looks up slightly, and his face softens, opens, and there’s a small, very genuine smile back.

“Let’s try again,” Elizabeth continues, and John rubs the back of his neck, sits up straighter, and looks at the camera.

“Hi, Dad, Mark, Lydia… I, ah, I hope the kids are well. And you are, too, of course.” He blinks for a moment, and says, “Well… I guess it’s been a while since we spoke. Or saw each other. I’ve been, uh… well, I’m…” He stops, and stares, almost helplessly, at Elizabeth. “I don’t even know what to say,” he says. “I mean, I can’t tell them – anything.”

“Give them your official cover,” Elizabeth suggests, still behind the camera, and John just stares at her. “John, did you read _any_ of the documents I gave you when you joined the expedition?”

“Of course not, I was busy saving the city,” he says, immediately, and then, “Wait, I have official cover?”

“Of course you do,” she sighs. And then she says, annoyed, “And yours was a really good one. I can’t believe you didn’t read it.”

“I’ve been kinda busy,” he says, and he flashes her a winning smile. “Wanna tell me what amazing cover mission I’m on now?”

“What, just to watch you forget it again as soon as you start talking to your family? I have a better idea.”

Elizabeth moves into frame, and John frowns at her for a second. “Budge up,” she says, and he shifts up on whatever it is he’s sitting on, and he gazes at her – taken aback and adoring. When she sits next to him, shifting a little awkwardly in what seems to be quite a small space, it isn’t with the awkwardness of two colleagues who need to deliver a message together. O’Neill feels his eyebrows rising, and tries not to notice Carter’s smirk.

“I should have thought of this first,” Elizabeth says, tugging down her jumper.

“Yeah, it’s all your fault,” John says, and she just looks at him. He pulls a face at her, and she laughs.

“It _is_ all my fault,” she agrees, comfortably, and then she turns to the camera and smiles, brightly. “Hello. I’m Dr. Elizabeth Weir, and I kidnapped your son.”

“You didn’t kidnap me,” John protests. “I came willingly.”

“Eventually,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him, and he tilts his head.

“Yeah, okay, it did sound a bit ridiculous at first.” She just – looks at him, and he smiles at her. “Thank you for inviting me to your party, Elizabeth,” he says, exaggerating every word, and she quite clearly suppresses a laugh.

When she turns back to the camera, John’s eyes linger, just for a moment, on her face. “I don’t expect that you know who I am,” she says, “but, if it’s of any interest to you, I’ve worked with the United Nations for a number of years. You can verify my story if you like, just so you know that I’m not making things up. I’m attached to the Security Council.” Her eyes sparkle. “Some time ago, I invited John to join my team – and I’m afraid our location and even the nature of our mission remains classified. This is an active operation, and at the present time, we cannot reveal any further details. But I can tell you that Colonel Sheppard has been instrumental to the success of this operation, and that his efforts have saved the lives of members of my team, including me, on a number of occasions.”

“Aw, Elizabeth,” John says, looking a little embarrassed and surprised, and when she looks at him, he blinks, and O’Neill thinks he’s never seen the man look less like _Sheppard_ and more like _John_.

“It’s true, John,” she says, a little fiercely. “There are a lot of things that we can’t say, but I want to be absolutely clear on this point. I could not have led this team as successfully without you.”

“You definitely could,” he shakes his head, “you’re basically the most qualified person on the planet to be here right now.”

“And I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, several times over,” she says, and he shrugs.

“Sure, but that’s mutual. You’ve pulled me out of the fire a number of times.”

Elizabeth looks at the camera. “You could have raised him to argue less with his boss, Mr. Sheppard. You really could.”

Sheppard tilts back his head and laughs. “You can’t get my dad involved. That’s playing dirty.”

Her eyes are wide. “It is not. This is a message to your family, isn’t it? I’m making my feelings known. Anyway,” she adds, “now they know I’m your – what was it you said?”

“That was a moment of weakness,” he says, quickly, “you can’t repeat it on camera, this is going to be seen by the censors. This is going to be seen by _O’Neill_. Oh, no, you’re going to say it, aren’t you?”

“Now that they know I’m your _superior in every way_ ,” she says over him, triumphantly, “you can tell them the rest of your news, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, sitting up a bit, “I was promoted.”

Elizabeth looks at him sidelong, and John actually blushes.

“I was promoted because of Elizabeth,” he offers, and she rolls her eyes. “Who is superior in every way,” he deadpans, and she flutters her eyelashes at him.

“Why, John Sheppard, you old romantic,” she says, and then he cuts across her, still looking at the camera,

“I’m not joking, I owe her literally everything.” His face is more serious than O’Neill has ever seen it – and he’s astonished when Carter makes a soft noise of appreciation.

On screen, Elizabeth looks surprised. “John – ”

“And,” he adds, throwing an arm around her shoulders, “we’re going to get married and have babies. Send champagne, please.”

Elizabeth bursts out laughing. O’Neill tries not to let his face squinch up in surprise, because Carter will laugh at him. 

“What?” John is asking, and he’s running his other hand up the back of his neck now, looking sheepish. “We are!”

“The astonishing tenderness of your announcement might change my mind,” Elizabeth gasps around her laughter.

“Hey, you’re the one who just wanted to get the paperwork over and done with,” he’s protesting. “I suggested choirs of local children and a twenty-one-gun salute.”

“Oh, God, I can’t imagine what our friends in command are going to say about this,” Elizabeth says, and then raises her face. “Jack, please don’t have a heart attack. And no, we aren’t going to name our children after you. Sorry.”

“He’s not going to have a heart attack, this is all his fault anyway. He made me come with you,” John says, and Elizabeth leans into him, O’Neill swears he sees a tear leak down her face from laughing so hard. John just looks at the camera and says, “See what you did? Maybe we _should_ name them after you, then they can grow up to cause lots of trouble and we can say it’s your influence.”

Elizabeth sits up and says, “Hey, I bet you wish you’d let Jackson come with us. He’d _never_ put up with all this cavalier romance and marriage stuff.” Her grin is obnoxious, now.

“I wasn’t cavalier,” John objects, and she looks back to him. “I was very serious.”

“John, you’re the definition of cavalier,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Not paying due care and attention to the matter at hand? Kind of like a spaniel? That’s you.”

He gazes at her. “I pay due care and attention to you,” he says, seriously, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear, and then Elizabeth Weir, a diplomat who causes world leaders to quake in their shoes and hardened military men to weep discreetly at their aides, on-screen, honest to God blushes. O’Neill has no idea how to live in a world where Elizabeth Weir goes doe-eyed because she’s in love.

“Stop it,” she says to John, “you’re embarrassing me in front of your family. I feel bad for saying you’re like a spaniel, now.”

John grins, eyes going to the camera. “Hey, Dad, this is a woman who walked into an enemy bunker, they tied her up and blindfolded her and told her she’d be a prisoner of war, and two hours later she strolled out again with their most powerful weapons and a truce that’s held for six months,” he says. “I convinced her to marry me. I really hope I have your blessing.”

“Blessing,” Elizabeth scoffs. “No offence, Mr. Sheppard, but I’m going to marry your son whether you like it or not. I hope they don’t cut that bit of intel,” she adds, after a moment, “I was great that day.” And her cheeks are still pink, but she’s smiling.

“Yeah, you were,” he says, dreamily, and then says, suddenly, “By the way, Dad, the reason I wasn’t there to share in the awesomeness of this story was because I was engaged in a pitched battle elsewhere. Just so you know that I don’t regularly let my future wife wander around hostile territory, outclassing me.”

“Yes, you were very heroic too,” she says, and she smoothes a hand through his hair – and he looks at her adoringly.

“Our kids are going to be awesome,” he says, and _now_ O’Neill cannot cope with the fact that while Elizabeth Weir looks _smitten_ , and John Sheppard looks _even worse_.

“I should point out that I wasn’t pregnant when I walked into an enemy bunker to convince them to hand over their best weapons and also agree to a peace treaty,” Elizabeth adds, straight to the camera.

O’Neill chokes, flailing in the direction of the pause button. On-screen, Elizabeth stills, staring right at him. “She’s _what_?” he squawks.

“Oh, you didn’t pick that up?” Carter asks, blandly, handing over a file. O’Neill glares at her, hard, because he knows she’s cackling at him behind that cool, calm face. “Elizabeth’s having twins. And Rodney’s having a fit about it; apparently they’re already interacting with the city _in utero_.”

O’Neill resists the urge to rest his head on the desk. “I see,” he says, and clearly doesn’t manage to sound neutral, because Carter cracks and looks way too amused. He presses play again.

“...I wasn’t pregnant when I walked into an enemy bunker to convince them to hand over their best weapons and also agree to a peace treaty,” the video repeats. “That’s definitely been taken off my list of medically acceptable activities.”

“Darn right it has,” John says. “I can’t have you upstaging me every day, the kids will never listen to a thing I say.”

“Did you actually _tell_ your – ?” she asks, and then he shakes his head and says,

“Oh, yeah – I’m going to be a dad! Which I’m sure you guessed already, since Elizabeth kinda said she’s pregnant and all. We’re having twins. A boy and a girl, we don’t have names yet,” he adds, and then he grins. “So, Mark… I bet my kids are going to be cuter than yours.”

“Why do I like you?” Elizabeth sighs, leaning back a little and resting a hand on her stomach, which, now that it’s in view, O’Neill can see is quite visibly swollen.

He shrugs. “Because I’m pretty?”

“I’m sure you had a redeeming quality,” she muses, “I just need to remember what it is,” and he picks up the hand that’s on her stomach and kisses it, and when they smile at each other, even though it’s a recorded moment, O’Neill feels like he’s intruding. Also, he realises that his mouth is hanging open, and that Carter’s given up on professionalism and is laughing her ass off at his face.

“So,” Sheppard says. “Sorry this came out of the blue, but, as you have realised, her indoors has been in charge of things for a while now, and we’ve been busy trying to, you know, keep our very serious mission afloat.”

Elizabeth pauses, and with great dignity, says, “Please stop reading bad British literature, and never call me ‘her indoors’ again, or you will regret it. Also, who keeps this mission afloat? I have to run emergency drills so that there are people in the area to fly you home in case you just _happen_ to get in trouble.”

“All right – the world-renowned diplomat who I’m going to marry and also who is in charge of my secret life that you can’t know anything about… what was I saying?”

“That I’ve been in charge of things for a while now.” She smiles at him, and then she sits up, leaning into the camera just a little. “In case you haven’t gathered, having classified whereabouts will make it difficult for us to be able to tell you when we get married. We’re not even sure if we can tell you where,” she says, apologetically. “It’s the nature of the job, I’m afraid. But obviously we’ll do our best to let you know when the kids are born.”

“I guess we can’t…” John stops and shakes his head, looking serious. “I mean, I don’t want them to _not_ know you all. So… we’ll see what we can do about coming to visit sometime.”

“I’m sure you think our life sounds completely mad,” Elizabeth says, “and in a sense I suppose it is… but we’re happy.”

“Very happy,” John says. “And very lucky.” He clears his throat, and says, “So, take care, everyone, and… I guess we’ll see you sometime?”

There’s a pause, and then Elizabeth’s smile grows mischievous. “Carter, feel free to make sure that this recording, in its entirety, is shown to General O’Neill. And Daniel Jackson. Oh, and could you send a midwife on the next run of the _Daedalus_? Carson’s getting twitchy about having to oversee a twin birth alone. Thanks.”

“And please preserve my dignity,” Sheppard rolls his eyes. “You know, as much as possible.”

The recording ends, and O’Neill realises he’s staring at the screen, mouth hanging open. He clicks it closed, and looks up at Sam, utterly speechless.

Carter is smirking far too much for his liking. “Is now a good time to mention that I’d like to be Weir’s maternity cover?”


End file.
